The living room was quiet except for the low, steady hum of the television. The flickering images of wanted posters cast shifting light across the walls, reflecting faintly in everyone's eyes.
Aldric sat on the couch, one leg crossed casually over the other, forearms resting on his knees as he studied Draven with open curiosity.
Lyriana broke the silence first. Her voice was steady, but there was no hiding the edge of concern beneath it.
"It's a worldwide bounty on His Highness. Adventurers, bounty hunters… mercenaries. Anyone with the courage—or the greed—will come for him, no matter where he is."
Draven stood near the hallway entrance, cradling his siblings in his arms. Elenya rested against his chest, small fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Lucifer's crimson eyes remained fixed on the television, wide and alert.
Draven himself did not move.
His gaze remained on the screen.
Unreadable. Expressionless.
Aldric tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow lifting.
"Even after hearing that… you don't seem surprised. Or even bothered."
Draven answered without looking at him. His voice was calm—detached, almost clinical.
"That's because it doesn't change a damn thing. Everything's still the same. They know where I am. And they're coming."
Aldric leaned back into the couch cushions, studying him more closely.
"…Yeah," he admitted after a moment. "I guess so."
Lyriana's gaze shifted from the screen to Draven, then to Aldric.
"The real question," she said slowly, "is why place a bounty on His Highness at all?"
Aldric ran a hand through his hair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips—though his eyes were thoughtful.
"She's right. It doesn't add up." He gestured lazily toward Draven. "With the mark, they already know where he is. All they'd need to do is mobilize. It's not like the Empire lacks power. Their king gives the order—send a fleet, deploy battalions—and it's over."
His expression darkened slightly.
"But they didn't."
Lyriana crossed her arms, frowning.
"Instead, they made it public," she murmured. "They spread his image everywhere."
Aldric nodded slowly.
"They issued a bounty. That's different."
"What could be the reason?" Lyriana pressed.
Aldric's smirk faded entirely.
"Their queen died," he said quietly. "And they lost hundreds of soldiers. Maybe they're still dealing with the aftermath. Mourning. Reorganizing." He paused. "Or maybe they're being cautious. Sending a message. Testing the waters before committing fully."
The television continued to replay the announcement, the Imperial crest gleaming ominously.
Draven's gaze never left the screen.
"Mourning. Testing." His tone was low and unyielding. "None of that changes what I need to do."
Lyriana glanced at Aldric, then back at Draven.
"Still… they're sending hunters after His Highness. Even with the mark tracking him."
The weight of that truth settled heavily in the room.
Four figures sat beneath the soft golden lighting, eyes fixed on a screen that had just declared war on one of them.
Outside, the world was already moving.
The broadcast eventually ended, but the echo of the Empire's decree seemed to linger in the air long after the screen shifted to ordinary programming.
Aldric leaned back further into the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. His posture was relaxed—but his eyes were sharp as they drifted toward Draven.
"So," he asked casually, "what are we doing? Keep moving? Or stick to the original plan?"
Silence lingered.
Draven stood motionless for a moment longer, his siblings quiet in his arms. Elenya's breathing was soft and steady. Lucifer's small hand gripped Draven's sleeve.
Then Draven spoke.
"We're staying. Like originally planned."
His voice was calm.
Decisive.
He lowered his gaze to the children.
"They need to be fed properly. And they need rest."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked down the hallway.
The maid stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Yes, my lord. I'll prepare their meal immediately. The young master and young miss can now feed on human blood. I will take what is necessary from the adults—without harming them."
Draven gave no verbal reply.
He simply disappeared around the corner.
The maid followed shortly after, her footsteps quiet against the floor.
Aldric watched them go, then stretched with an exaggerated sigh.
"Well then. Since we're staying…" A lazy grin spread across his face. "Might as well make myself at home."
He rose, wandered into the kitchen, and returned dragging a pot with him. Setting it on the living room table, he scooped up a generous spoonful and shoved it into his mouth.
"Mm," he hummed approvingly. "Still good."
He cracked open another drink with a crisp hiss and began flipping through channels with the remote, the television light flashing across his face.
Lyriana remained standing, staring at him with visible disapproval.
"…Are you going to clean up the mess you made earlier?"
Aldric didn't even glance her way.
"If you'd get off my back already." He took another sip. "If you want it clean, go ahead. Be my guest."
He raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"And shouldn't you follow your own advice? You told me to bathe. You kind of stink, you know."
He flashed her a shameless smile.
Lyriana's eye twitched.
"Moron."
Aldric slowly lowered the bottle.
"…Mind how you speak to me." He pointed the remote at her accusingly. "I'm your big brother. Show some respect."
Lyriana had already turned toward the stairs.
"Stupid big brother."
Aldric stared after her, genuinely offended.
"…Damn brat," he muttered, shaking his head. "She's getting worse every day."
He leaned back into the couch once more, drink in hand, television glowing before him, the golden light of the living room clashing quietly with the storm gathering beyond its walls.